


caresses as of snakes that crawl in circles round a cistern's wall

by lzrd



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Caretaking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, Possessive Behavior, Praise Kink, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:02:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lzrd/pseuds/lzrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cicero takes some time to tend to his Listener</p>
            </blockquote>





	caresses as of snakes that crawl in circles round a cistern's wall

**Author's Note:**

> title's from le revenant by charles baudelaire, translated by george dillon

The candles in the Listener's quarters have burnt to stubs by the time Cicero has persuaded his overworked leader to acquiesce to his care, and it's not a moment too soon if you ask him! It was worrying enough when the Listener had trudged back in from his most recent assignment and Babette had pointed out to him how troublingly the brawny man sagged forwards-- his shoulders, usually squared as firm as if he were made of stone even under the thick metal plating of his heavy armor, were slouched over at an uncomfortable angle that threw his posture out of balance-- but as soon as he had entered the sanctuary he had his nose in another book, hunched over the table in a way that was clearly doing his injury no favors. It was a challenge to get his stubborn Listener going along with the program, taking far more eyelash fluttering and flirtation than usual, but finally the big mass of a man was up and starting to shed pieces of armor at a sluggish pace.

* * *

Cicero is at his side momentarily, and a second pair of hands undoing the straps and pulling it away makes easing the second pauldron off  go much smoother than his fumbling first attempts. They continue in a companionable quietude, the only sounds the clanking of the armor and the quiet humming and mumbling Cicero exuded on a normal basis.

When everything has been removed and Listener is down to the plain cotton shirt and pants he wears under his armor Cicero produces a rag and leans in to clean his war paint off. With the Listener's back the state it's in Cicero doesn't even have to stand on tiptoe to make eye contact and he waggles his eyebrows as he swipes the final traces of the color from around his eyes, drawing a tired chuckle from the other man. Helping him get his shirt over his head, Cicero gently herds the Listener to his bed. He pokes at one of the deep purple bags under his eyes when he tries to argue.

  


* * *

For all his protestations about being taken care of the Listener all but collapses on the bed when his shins hit the edges of the mattress; his boneless belly flop is anything but graceful. Cicero hovers by his side as he burrows into the covers. "Listener? Would you be amenable to Cicero working some of the discomfort out of your back with a massage? Cicero is ever so good with his hands after all!"

A fond chuckle emerges from the pillow as the Listener draws his arms up under his head. "If it pleases you so my Fool of Hearts, you're certainly welcome to."

A sharp giggle bursts out of him unbidden, oh! If only his dear Listener knew how it pleased him! He's scampering for the door to prepare before he has turned his head back into the pillow and heads up the stairs in leaps and bounds, nearly knocking an initiate over in his haste. He knows there's oil he keeps on the alchemy table for himself, to keep his hands smooth and healed from his frequent applications of Mother's much harsher preservation oils. It wouldn't do to bleed on her of course, or tear her skin with his rough hands, Sithis banish the thought. He had thought himself vain when he had added the lavender to his most recent  batch on a whim: now he is pleased at his stroke of accidental genius. Nothing but the best for his dearest Listener! The sound from the torture chamber seeps through the wall here and he takes a moment to luxuriate in it, allowing the familiar to soothe him, calming his hammering heartbeat.

Remembering himself, he's back moving as quickly as his feet can carry him, practically vaulting onto the bed and announcing his presence with a hurried "I'm back Listener!" as he straddles his firm waist.

  


* * *

Cicero takes a moment to appreciate the broad torso beneath his thighs, the pale flesh flexing idly, padding out corded muscles and blushing in the dim lamplight. How generous, how indulgent his Listener is being with him right now by allowing him this opportunity!

His disinclination towards being doted on--being Kept, if you will-- caused Cicero great sadness. It certainly wasn't a question of his sweet Listener being concerned with his modesty-- something that came with being a Nord he supposed-- but it was a rare treat indeed for humble Cicero to be allowed to take his time up close tending to the Listener's poor, aching muscles. And up close he was! Cicero could swear he felt his heart flutter at the expanse of sinew stretching out in front of him... and behind, he thought with a giggle. It wouldn't do to think about that now though, when he had so much to look forward to before him! It was centering, in a way, for him to focus his attention on the body waiting for him, warm and breathing, for once.

Cicero begins by reacquainting himself with the layout of his Listener's body with gentle effleurage, hands already slick with oils. Running his hands up and down his back, Cicero feels the tension seep out of him, leaving only the tight knots of built up stress he'd be focusing on. He applies even pressure to the space under his shoulder blades as they flex languidly.  "Does gentle Listener find himself comfortable?" Cicero murmurs coyly into his ear. A muffled groan answers, buried into the covers as he is. His admission gives him pause, briefly making his hands shudder across his back for a moment. Cicero had meant it teasingly, his burly murderous leader would never be considered gentle to anyone else, but here in this room he was calm, pliant, even.

He steadies his hands and returns to his rhythm; swallowing around the lump in his throat is more difficult but he manages, beginning to assess the areas that will need the most attention when he starts seriously working him over. The bottle of oil is close at hand and Cicero reaches for it, coating his hands liberally. A couple droplets drip onto Listener's back and he shakes Cicero with the force of his laughter.

A wave of heat hits Cicero, spreading a wide grin across his face in it's wake. "Hehehe-- Listener is ticklish is he? Well, diligent Cicero will have to be more careful in the future, won't he?" Without wasting any more time Cicero digs his fingers into a knot between the left shoulder blade and the spine of his precious Listener, and leans his entire weight into it. Smoothing his hand over the area with the heel of his hand spreads oil where he needs it and he keeps at it until it smooths out, relaxed for the first time in a while if Cicero knows his Listener (and he does).

Kneading at the second one takes more focus due to its close proximity to a nasty bruise but he manages to skirt it with diligence. The way his Listener lolls his head to one side to hiss at the calculated press of his fingers is more than worth it.

Taking a break from the individual problem areas Cicero goes back to dragging his hands back and forth over the canvas before him. When he reaches his lower back, he spreads his fingers out, squeezing the meat there. He humphs disapprovingly when he grasps only muscle. He'd have to talk to Nazir about making sure Listener was getting enough food. He follows through with the movement of his hands by dragging both of them inwards so they meet in the middle; there he rubs little circles with his palms bracketing the dip in the center of his back.

The next knot is more stubborn but he's settled into a cadence now, vision narrowing entirely to the skin and the tightly bunched muscle below him, the only other input from the man himself, little huffs and moans guiding him. Following the curve down the middle of his Listener's back, Cicero's fingers dig in to either side of his spine, running smoothly up and down, leeching stiffness away as he goes.

* * *

Looking back on this moment Cicero would come to realize he had followed the delightful sounds his Listener had been producing a little too well but now in the moment he doesn't notice a thing, hypnotized as he is by the push pull of his own hands over willing flesh. It isn't until he gets a handful of something much softer than muscle that he realizes he's slid further down than is strictly appropriate for an innocent massage. He's trying to start his stalled thought process to form an apology when the Listener's hips shake tantalizingly-- invitingly, even.

"Do you plan to finish what you've started, Cicero?" The Listener's voice is calm even through the raw edge it had taken on in recent minutes.

Cicero licks his lips nervously, choosing a more tactful approach "What exactly is it that Cicero has started, Listener?" It wouldn't do to misread the situation after all.

"I'd thought wiggling my ass about like a tart would have given you an idea, my dear Fool." he sounds mirthful now, if a bit exasperated, and Cicero relaxes against his better judgement. "Well?"

"Listener's wish is Cicero's command! If Listener would be so kind as to turn over for Cicero?"

"The process would be speeded if you would allow me the room to do so." Listener responds wryly.

Cicero reluctantly dismounts the Listener to allow him the room to turn over. He settles back into bed with a groan, turning onto his back oh so obediently for him, and the sight of of his supine form in profile warms him to his very core. Cicero gladly takes the opportunity to trace the ripple of his abs with his eyes, allowing his eyes to dart further down to the thick trail of pale hair sweeping down the plane of his stomach and further still, to the sheet bunched over his hips.

The fabric isn't in place for long, because the Listener's huge hands are shoving it down his thighs, and Cicero gets his first eyeful of his Listener's thick cock.

A focused gleam appears in Cicero's eye as he settles himself between his legs. Getting comfortable kneeled on the floor with both hands wrapped around his dick, his tongue darts out to taste his Listener's length. The salt on his tongue spurs him to further exploration and he laves his tongue up and down the shaft before the oil on his hands chases the taste away. When he's content that he's gotten as much of the flavor as he can he wraps his mouth around the head and starts to sink his head down slowly. Tilting his head to gaze prettily up at his Listener he makes eye contact just as his nose presses into his groin. His Listener's hand grips at the base of his skull like he'd hoped he would and the moan that rewards Cicero for his effort is so open and unguarded that it shoots straight to his dick.

He allows his mind to drift as he continues to please the Listener, and begins to hum contentedly. The Listener jolts at the sensation, a fond grin spreading across his face. "A true natural." he teases, and Cicero winks coquettishly.

"You're always so good, Cicero" his Listener rasps, threading a firm hand into his hair, and Cicero freezes and keens, eyes wide.

His Listener's eyes focus sharply at his reaction and he continues, "So gorgeous. So cunning and thoughtful and eager to please me" the fingers tighten in his hair, and he can't stop his hips from bucking. He distracts himself from the blush that's probably starting to radiate from his face by ducking his head back down to bob his head.

"The look on your face after a kill is breathtakingly hot, my lovely, deadly Keeper. I want nothing more than to throw you down on the floor whenever I see it and give you a reward for being so good." The praise washes over him as he focuses on swirling his tongue just so; he tries not to let it show what it's doing to him but the way he swallows thickly around his cock is a dead giveaway. His Listener doesn't seem to mind though.

"Always mindful of my needs, such a good Keeper for me, I could watch you worship me forever." There's definitely a blush spreading  across his cheekbones now. Cicero, ever mindful of his appearance, had always hated his propensity for reddening when pleased, but in service of his Listener, under his watchful gaze, he finds he doesn't mind it too much. It's appropriate.

There's a pause while the Listener angles his head up to stare into his eyes. It stretches on long enough that Cicero's mind has started to drift to the sweat that's begun to soak into the hair at the base of his neck but the next sentence stops him cold.

"Forever is exactly how long i plan to spend with you, my beautiful Keeper. I won't be separated from you."

Cicero realizes distantly he's shaking but he's too busy channeling everything he can't say into the way he grips his Listener's hips and focuses completely on him. He pours all of his devotion into deepthroating him, hearing the first whines of the man coming undone above him.

With a final drawn out moan his Listener comes in his mouth, flooding his taste buds with the bitter flavor he'd been hoping for. Cicero swallows greedily and licks his lips with an impish grin. He doesn't even have time for a joke before his Listener is hauling him up on his lap and shoving a hand down his pants to grab his own erection. It only takes a minute to stroke him off and he would be embarrassed about it if Listener wasn't whispering filthy praise into his ear the whole time and mouthing along his jaw. He squirms when his Listener draws his hand out of his now much damper pants to suck his come off of his thick fingers with relish.

  


* * *

  
Getting them both arranged comfortably on the bed is a bit of an awkward affair with Cicero's limbs as wobbly as they are and both of them unable to open their eyes more than half way but they manage to end up with Cicero sprawling across Listener's chest, his head resting over his heart.

In the morning Cicero has planned out, he'll bring him breakfast in bed and maybe even see if he's amicable to a repeat performance in his usual style of service with a smile. Sometime in the middle of his careful selection of wording to use to guarantee him the best outcome his Listener begins carding his fingers through his hair; each pass moves slower until he finds his thought process dropping off.

Contentment spreads through him in his last waking moments, and he presses a lazy open mouthed kiss to his Listener's chest in gratitude.

**Author's Note:**

> idk if this is sexy @ all lol i'm just a simple asexual here to have a good time
> 
>  
> 
> [click here to see me ramble abt characterization in this fic](http://engouled.tumblr.com/post/138863436908/caresses-as-of-snakes-that-crawl-in-circles-round)


End file.
